by Gina Ardito
“Okay.”
Just for tonight, my conscience reminded me. And maybe for Friday, too, my heart shot back.
Then we would say goodbye. He’d go back to his life, and I’d return to mine.
~~~~
Paige
After a completely sleepless night, I finally crawled out of bed at six-thirty on Monday morning and grabbed the first of many cups of coffee. Images danced in my head like Radio City Rockettes, each one kicking my bruised conscience: Sam when he showed up on my doorstep, Sam grilling the fish on my barbecue, Sam sitting across from me at dinner, Sam telling me he always knew where I was, Sam kissing me…
Okay, I replayed every minute of my evening with Sam, but interlaced with those memories, I saw Nia, an expression of shock and anger on her face that drove a knife into my heart.
I had to tell her. She was going to ask about last night’s so-called party the next time I saw her. I couldn’t avoid the conversation for more than a day, at best. What on earth could I possibly say to her? That maybe my animosity toward Sam had revolved one hundred eighty degrees into attraction?
Yeah, that would go over well. Especially if she blamed me for keeping her apart from Sam for all these years.
Telling her the truth would only hurt us both. I’d have to lie.
Facing a day lined with possible life-altering disasters, I hit the button on another cup of coffee, then decided to tackle my laundry. At least, if Nia killed me, she’d have plenty of clean outfits to choose from for my burial. I imagine since it worked for clean underwear in the hospital, the rule was doubly important for funerals.
At 12:30 pm, I strolled into Nature’s Bounty with a large white paper bag filled with yummy goodness. I spotted Nia immediately. She wore a sundress the hue of egg yolks, a perfect complement to her coloring and sunny mood. I had no clue what kind of morning she’d had, but it must have been a doozy. My sister beamed brighter than sunshine, which only enforced my decision to prevaricate about last night. How could I intentionally break Nia’s heart when she looked so happy? She stood by the cash register, counting out money, totally oblivious to me.
“Lunchtime, Nia!” I announced and held up the bag. “Behold, I bring you food of the gods: a double cheeseburger from America’s Drive-In, sweet potato fries with fabulous maple dipping sauce, and for irony’s sake, a diet soda. It’s a beautiful day outside, and you and I are going to take advantage for an hour. I paid Tommy and Monica Kelly five bucks each to hold the bench in the gazebo for us. Let’s go.”
At last, she looked up. When she spotted me, a frown pinched her features. She groaned, “Oh, God, Paige, after last night’s feast I couldn’t possibly eat all that food.”
Wait. What? “I thought you and Iggy did inventory last night.”
“We did.” Spots of color appeared in her cheeks. “But you know Mrs. Z. God forbid her son doesn’t get a decent dinner. A good stiff wind might blow him over.”
“Yeah, sure.” I stifled a snort of amusement. “Only if that wind knocks down the water tower when Iggy’s standing underneath.”
She shrugged, a silent agreement, then went back to bundling her money.
“So what did you eat last night?” I persisted.
Her head snapped up. “Huh?”
“What did Mrs. Z. bring in last night? What has you so full?”
“Oh, umm, ham in rye crust and pierogis.”
Briana, hovering near the storeroom, chimed in. “Iggy was here yesterday? How come?”
“Inventory,” Nia replied quickly.
The teen’s eyes nearly bugged from her head. “But we did inventory last week.”
Really? I switched my attention from Briana to Nia and back again.
“Yes,” Nia said softly, “but we missed a shipment that came in late, so Iggy and I had to do a recount.”
Briana frowned. “You should have said something before you sent Andy and me home yesterday. We would’ve stayed to help. Especially for homemade pierogis. I wonder if Iggy will bring in the leftovers when he comes to work today.”
“I don’t know if there are any leftovers.” Nia shoved the cash into a drawer beneath the register and locked it, pocketing the key.
“There should be,” the teen insisted. “Mrs. Z. always makes extra for us.”
“Well, don’t go asking her for anything.” My sister grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the door. “Come on. Before the Kelly kids give up on us and sell our spot to the highest bidder.”
Lucky for us, the twins had stuck it out, and lucky for them, I upped the payment to six bucks each. After the kids had happily run off to spend their easily earned dough, Nia and I sat together on the bench overlooking Fort Lake, the site of a Revolutionary War battle. A dozen homes around the water claimed George Washington had slept here, but no one knew for certain where he’d laid his general’s head centuries ago. Couples strolled around the tree-lined lake. A jogger in blue nylon shorts and a sweat-soaked white tee paused at the monument stone to check his pulse.
“Here.” I pushed a paper sack of sweet potato fries toward Nia, setting the cup of dipping sauce on the bench between us. “Eat, while it’s still hot.”
“Thanks.” She pulled out a fry, dipped it in the sweet tan sauce, and bit in. Her face glowed nuclear. “God, that’s soooo good! I don’t know why, but it always tastes better when you pay.” She took another fry, followed the same ritual. “How was the barbecue?”
Let the games begin. “Actually, it was an eyelash shy of a disaster. I tried to cancel and managed to reach all the other guests except Sam.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied me over the rim of her soda cup. “Sam? Sam Dillon? You invited Sam? Why?”
“To prove to you that I was giving him a chance. But then you bailed, I told everyone else not to come, and Sam showed up a half hour early. It wound up being the two of us. Talk about awkward.” I edged the comment with lots of bite and rolled my eyes.
A flush crept into her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Paige. I feel awful about cancelling last night.”
“Yeah, well, I definitely could have used a buffer,” I grumbled.
Near the lake’s edge, two toddlers chased each other and screeched. Meanwhile, their mom chatted with another woman nearby. Honestly, this place might seem idyllic, but why invite tragedy? I shook my head and returned to my conversation with Nia, but I stayed focused on the kids. “The only good thing about last night is I can honestly say Sam’s still breathing and I’m not in jail, so we managed to muddle through.”
“He didn’t say anything to upset you, did he?”
My attention swerved from the toddlers to my sister. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. You seem…” She paused, cocked her head. “…tense today.”
I pointed toward the lake. “Look at those kids. You’d think their mother would keep a closer eye on them.”
“No, it’s more than that. You’re so uptight, you’re practically brittle.”
“I guess being nice to Sam last night took its toll on me.”
Her expression darkened. “I’m sorry. Had I known it would be you and Sam alone, and that you’d be so miserable afterward…”
Oh, boy. If I didn’t rein myself in, the devil would be picking out a penthouse suite for my eternity. “The night really wasn’t that bad. Sam made a few snarky comments that got my back up, but I bit my tongue and let his idiocy roll off me. By the end of the evening, we actually became kind of…pleasant toward one another.”
I wondered if hell had air conditioning.
My eventual damnation would be worth it because Nia’s dazzling smile reappeared. “That’s wonderful. I’m proud of you. I can’t imagine it was easy for you to keep your mouth in check around him.”
Oh, if she only knew.
I sipped my soda to keep from saying something incriminating and stupid. God, my head hurt. I hated myself. I hated Sam. I hated the trust Nia placed in me. I wanted to go home and hide under the covers. Until the y
ear 2040.
“You and Sam.” She bit another dipped fry, chewed, and swallowed. “What did you two do all night?”
Wow. If she ever gave up her gift shop, she’d make an excellent investigative journalist. “Nothing. Why?”
“What do you mean nothing?” She slapped her hands on her lap. “You threw him out after inviting him over?”
“No. Of course not. He stayed for dinner.”
She leaned back, her elbows resting on the back of the bench and her head tilted toward the slant of sunlight coming in through the gap between the posts. “And…?”
Why? Why couldn’t she let this go? Why did she have to make my sins so much worse by insisting on details I didn’t want to share? “And nothing. He grilled the mako, which was delicious by the way, and the corn. We had iced tea and pasta salad on the side, and then he went home.”
After he kissed me. And I kissed him back.
“You had a good time?”
Could the ground open up and swallow me now? Please? Time to change the subject. “I thought we could go to the Labor Day celebration tonight. Check out the fireworks.”
And check out Sam, who would also be there. Maybe he and Nia could create fireworks of their own. Part of me hoped Nia would say no. Part of me didn’t want them to spend time together, which was ridiculous.
Until last night, I’d wanted nothing more than to see these two as a couple. One night with Sam, a few kisses later, and a queasiness filled my belly at the thought of Nia sharing that kind of magic.
I told myself I didn’t want to run the risk that Sam might tell her about last night, about what we’d really done. I was not jealous. I refused to be jealous. I didn’t even like Sam Dillon. No matter how his kisses curled my toes.
Chapter 16
Nia
I barely arrived back at the store when Briana started in with her cross-examination. “Iggy says he didn’t come into work at all yesterday and his mom was in the city with Ivanka at a Broadway show. So there was no inventory and no pierogis.”
Great. Briana Levinson, girl detective, was on my trail.
“That’s right,” I said as I breezed past her toward the counter.
“So why’d you lie to us?”
“Because I didn’t want Paige to know where I was last night.” I picked up my apron and pulled it over my head, glad for the opportunity to hide my face from scrutiny—even briefly.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Iggy grumbled from behind the wall of greeting cards in the rear of the store.
Crap. He came in early today. Quick, Nia. Think of something.
“Oh, relax. I have a surprise planned for her, and I had details to take care of last night. That’s all.”
“Well, next time you plan to use me as your excuse, give me a heads-up.” Iggy’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “You’re lucky your sister didn’t ask me about this so-called inventory before I heard about it from Briana.”
I ducked my head. No one had chastised me like this since Daddy passed away. No one had needed to. “I know, and I’m sorry. Paige showed up without warning. I panicked.” The phone on the counter rang, and I reached for it. Saved by the bell. “Nature’s Bounty Gift Shop, how can I help you?”
“Hello, beautiful, how are you today?”
I knew his voice instantly, but still couldn’t believe he called me. “Aidan?” I whispered, cupping the receiver close to my mouth.
“While I’m sure you have people greet you that way all the time,” he said, “I have to admit it’s a little disconcerting that you have to ask if it’s me.”
“Sorry, can you hold on a minute?” I quickly pushed the red button to silence my end of the conversation, then turned to Iggy and Briana who watched me with open curiosity. “Part of Paige’s surprise,” I explained hastily. “I’ll take this in the storeroom.”
“Uh-huh.” Iggy’s reply was flat, emotionless, but filled with questions nevertheless.
Two pairs of eyes bored into my shoulder blades as I strode away, but I didn’t falter. Only after I’d closed the door and locked it did I pick up the wall phone located behind a stack of cardboard boxes.
“Sorry about that,” I murmured. “I was just finishing up with a customer.” Lie number five. Or six, for the day. I’d lost count. “Thanks again for last night. I had a great time.”
“Me too. That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to know if you plan on going to the Labor Day fireworks show tonight. I thought we might go together.”
Together? In public? In my hometown?
“Oh, gee, umm…”
Why didn’t I live in Manhattan where there were probably a thousand things to do tonight? How could I bow out without admitting I didn’t want the nosy townspeople to see us together? I shivered. I could almost feel the whispered rumors on the back of my neck. Did you see Nia with that Coffield fellow? What do you suppose he sees in her? The same thing that Greenwich stockbroker saw in her mother. Easy pickings.
“Actually,” I said at last, “I was planning to work in my hot spot tonight.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “I suppose you prefer to work alone, yes?”
Was he wrangling for an invitation? A thrill passed through me. “I thought you wanted to see the fireworks.”
“I can see fireworks anytime. I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance to see the work of such a talented artist.”
I swear fireworks crept into my cheeks.
“How about it?” he pressed. “Would you like some company tonight?”
My first reaction to his question was absolutely not. The last thing I needed was for any of my neighbors to recognize him. How would I explain a Coffield at my house?
Then the saner part of my brain realized that virtually everyone would be down at the beach for the fireworks. If we timed this right, he could be at my house and gone with no one the wiser.
The crazier section of my mind knew that Aidan’s interest in me would eventually wane, leaving me like some tragic Gothic heroine. Eventually, I’d become a modern-day Miss Havisham, roaming around my empty house, mourning the man who got away.
Both hemispheres in my head agreed that I should take full advantage of any time I could spend with him until the miserable day when we parted for good.
I waggled my eyebrows, a bad Groucho Marx impression, and laced my voice with sultry innuendo. “I suppose you want to check out what I have in my lehr.”
“‘What you have in your lair?’ Is that like inviting me up to your apartment to see your etchings? Because I’m not that kind of guy.”
“No, silly.” I laughed. “A lehr, L-E-H-R, is an annealing furnace. It’s a time- and temperature-controlled box where I store my sculptures while they cool. You have to remember that when completed, the glass is hotter than a few thousand degrees. At that heat level, if a piece is cooled too quickly, it will crystallize. Did you ever take a glass dish from the oven to the refrigerator and have it explode? Or place a hot liquid in a glass mug and watch a crack form down the length? That’s what happens when the glass is cooled too quickly during the creation process. The lehr gradually drops the temperature over hours to cool and protect the glass’s molecular structure.”
“Okay, then.” He dropped his voice. “I’d love to see what you have in your lehr, L-E-H-R. And if we have time, what’s in your L-A-I-R.” The husky promise skittered across my flesh, raising goose bumps.
“Come by at eight-thirty.” I gave him the address. “I’ll be in the carriage house at the back of the property. Just follow the driveway to the end. If the music’s blaring, stay outside until I turn it down or off completely. That’s a safety precaution. The louder the music, the more dangerous the conditions inside. If or when it’s quiet, you can walk right in. Got it?”
“Wouldn’t a ‘caution’ sign on the door have the same effect?”
“No,” I said airily. “I can’t hum along to a ‘caution’ sign.”
“Point taken. Should I bring anything?
Wine, maybe? I happen to know an excellent vintner.”
“I bet, but no.” I smiled. Occupational hazard for him, I supposed, to want to bring a bottle of wine to any event. “Especially no alcohol. I don’t imbibe when I’m working. And you won’t either. A few more rules. Dress comfortably, but cover exposed skin—pants and long sleeves. It gets extremely hot in there. Wear cotton, nothing made of rayon or nylon, which could melt.”
“Melt? Really?”
I shook my head. “A thousand degrees, remember?”
“Is there any danger?”
Only to my heart. I swallowed my fear. “Not if you follow my rules. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am, I got it. I’ll see you at eight-thirty.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I replied.
And I was. Really. For the rest of the day, I might as well have walked on clouds. I’d never invited a man into my hot spot. Even Paige rarely ventured inside, although she avoided the place because she despised the extreme heat from the two furnaces.
Both times Aidan had come into my shop, he’d shown a true appreciation for my work. Now I wanted to hear his opinion on my lineup of fall items. The pieces in my lehr.
The worst part of the afternoon occurred when Briana went home at four-thirty, leaving me alone with Iggy. Over the next half hour, he glared at me and shook his head, saying nothing. At five o’clock, he flipped the sign to “Closed” and stalked toward me, his soldier’s eyes intense.
“Okay.” He pulled the stool away from the cash register with an ear-splitting screech and patted the top with a sharp smack-smack-smack. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
The hot seat? Thanks, but no thanks. I feigned interest in rearranging the painted seashell “floral” arrangements. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Don’t go squirrely on me now, Nia.”
I moved on to the mini Christmas tree and toyed with the shell ornaments hanging there. “I’m not.”
“No? Oh, my mistake.” He stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“What?” I blinked. “No. Of course not.”
